


Unvoiced

by Heartguts



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon Disabled Character, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Morgoth is a Dick, Post-Rescue from Thangorodrim, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:23:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6724060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heartguts/pseuds/Heartguts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, "Maedhros Fights the Fucking Sun."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unvoiced

 Upon his rescue, Maedhros sleeps irregularly. The rise of the sun and moon had jarred everyone in different ways, but Maedhros still struggles, kept in a haze by remedies for his pain, light obscured by the tent he has been confined to. There is nothing for him to keep time save the flashes of brilliant gold or silver when someone enters his temporary home.  
And oh, when it is gold, he tries to hide the way he cringes but all his brothers and cousins have seen it, the spasm of his shoulders as if flinching away from a blow.

 The skies cloud; the air sickens.

 Maedhros flinches from the sun's light again.  
He asks to see it.

 He has been well enough to stand, to walk in the small space granted to him. He has not been outside because he has _feared_ it, though no one said it in quite those words.The healers give their consent when Fingon asks to take him from them the next morning, when the sky is still dark.

 The air is mercifully clear, winds from the sea sweeping through. Perhaps Ulmo is yet on their side.  
The stars are starting to fade overhead, light creeping from the east. Fingon leads his cousin away from the camp, to a better view overlooking the lake.

 "Don't look directly at her--that's not a _challenge."_ Fingon catches the look in Maedhros' eye and for all his scolding he is thrilled to see it.  
He thinks, for just a moment, that he sees a smile too.

 They both remember Laurelin, however distantly. _Time_ is less of a factor in its fading than _trauma_ \--each their own they will not speak of, not just yet.  
(Maedhros knows of the Helcaraxë but does not grasp the extent of their losses.  
Fingon knows Amrod is gone but does not know how.  
Both of them can still hear the echo of Maedhros begging for death.)

 As brilliant shades of orange and gold wash over them, they think, however bright Laurelin was, she never did have the beauty of a sunrise.  
Fingon cannot pretend he does not see how Maedhros tenses. How he reaches up, touches his face--remembering how this light burned before the smoke spared him.  
( _Spared_ is a strong word, given how his voice is ruined, how his body shakes with coughing fits even though he is mostly healed.)

 But Maedhros bears it. He watches the sky, forces himself not to turn away.  
"I hated her when she first rose." Absent-minded, he runs his fingers over a scar that cuts through his hair, a jagged white line through gleaming copper, still growing back. "I think that's what I hate him for most. He made me hate the light." There is something unspoken, on the tip of Maedhros' tongue, behind his faded eyes, but Fingon does not ask. He fears he knows the answer already.

 The sun is still rising.

 Maedhros does not voice it, but he is in pain. Fingon notices, stands, complains about being stiff and sore, about how the other Fëanorians will think he has murdered Maedhros or some other evil. He helps Maedhros to his feet, a gentle hand on his right arm, still in a brace and sling and still throwing off his balance.

 He is exhausted by the time they return to camp, but before he settles back into bed, he thanks Fingon, and they know it is for more than just this morning excursion.  
Fingon replies, _"any time,”_ and he means it.

 Maedhros sleeps until the sun has set again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> call this russingon and i'll break your nose.


End file.
